Calamity Jane

My name is Calamity Jane Russell. I’m named after Martha Jane Cannary Burke, better known as Calamity Jane. She’s not so famous that people automatically recognize it when they first meet me, but it’s the type of name that makes people go, “Calamity? Calamity Jane? Oh, haven’t I heard that somewhere?” And of course my mother takes any chance she gets to explain how Calamity Jane was a famous prostitute and frontierswoman and then they will look at me like I’ll end up just like that.

I guess that’s what I get for being such a disappointment to my birth-mom. She gave me up to my grandma when I was nine and by the time I was ten, I was being put up for adoption and placed into a family full of people with biblical names. I have –scratch that; I had -- two brothers, Joel and John, and then my mom, Rachel, and my dad, Paul. Imagine a Christmas photograph with all of us and beneath, a greeting: Merry Christmas from the Russell family! Love Rachel, Paul, Joel, John and Calamity! The perfect family, right? Hell yeah!

Life is shit, to be honest. Not that I’m complaining. I mean, when do I ever complain? If I did actually ever try to talk to my adopted parents, or Landon, or even Joel, it would be like trying to catch the wind. So I suck it up and walk around being all bad-ass with my bright finger nail polish and absurdly loud clothes and Mexican food fetish. Calamity Jane would never complain about anything.

But still, life is shit. And no one likes shit. Unless you’re one of those people with fetishes, like me. I mean, I have heard of stranger things. So, back to life being shit: Yeah. I mean, what can I say? Shit is shit, just like rice is rice. I’m pretty sure I’ve just lost my boyfriend of four years, which is pathetic because he isn’t even that great and I’m the only one who could ever want him. I’m finally an adult now, I work at fucking Wendy’s and I’m fucking Calamity Jane. How the hell can I make it anymore clear?

Life is hell and I just know it's because of my name.